The Fearful (26 page)

‘I don't need warning,' Bill said calmly enough, but his eyes were blazing.

‘I thought you might want to hear what I'm going to say.'

Bill was silent.

‘I'm a businessman,' Stones continued. ‘Luckily my business is bringing pleasure to other people – I'm grateful for that. Through my business I'm also bringing money into this town. Who fills the market square in the summer? Who buys from the knick-knack shops? It's my customers. The people who want to hire my boats but fancy a daytrip into the town. And in case you forget, they are also who's been filling the rooms in your crumbling pile for the last few years. But that's going to change, of course, when my hotel's built.'

‘It's going to be a while before it's built if your workmen keeping taking days off.'

Vic waved a hand, as if it was an irrelevance, but even Tim saw the flash of irritation in his eye. Bill caught it too.

‘Is that what this is about?' he asked. He almost laughed,
slapped a hand down on the table. ‘You've been stopped, haven't you? You've been caught out, for skipping proper procedures?'

‘It
will
be built,' Vic said, his jaw and fist clenched. ‘I admit it will take a little while longer than I would have liked, but don't you concern yourself, Bill, it will get built soon enough.'

Bill took a long, slow sip of his Guinness. ‘I'll get the council to tie you up in as much red tape as I possibly can.'

‘I'll look forward to the fight.'

Bill seemed a little more relaxed. ‘So make your point, Vic.'

Stones rolled his cigar in his fingers, as if considering his words. ‘I think this monster business is an embarrassment our town would rather forget. It makes us look like a bunch of medieval country bumpkins to the outside world. And have you ever thought of what kind of a polluted mess our lake must be? With centuries' worth of rotting animal bones lying on the bottom? Just think of all that filth flowing along the river Hurry and through the centre of our town. That dog's head this afternoon is proof of that.'

‘Are you using us as practice for your speech tomorrow?' Bill asked. ‘You do have a point, don't you?'

Stones locked eyes with him. ‘Keep the house, Bill. I'm not going to try to evict you or your family. It's an ugly bloody thing but it is part of this town's heritage. Not just one family's, mind you, but the
whole town's.
Our parents and grandparents paid for it, didn't they? In
Monster Tax
. Turn it into a museum, that's what I say. Because that's
where this nonsense should be – consigned for ever to the past.'

Bill took a gulp of his pint, motioned to Tim to finish his drink too because he was getting ready to leave.

But Tim was listening intently.

‘You see, Bill, I don't think we have any need for a Mourner.' He winked at Tim. ‘Sorry, lad, we only need a Mourner if there's a Mourn, and you're a bigger man than I if you believe such a creature exists.' He patted his belly, almost grinned.

Bill looked unmoved, but he was breathing heavily.

‘I need proof, however. Funny that, don't you think? Ironic. I need to prove it doesn't exist, when for over three hundred years your lot have been quite happy to believe it does with no proof whatsoever.'

Bill pushed what was left of his pint aside; he wasn't even going to wait to finish it.

‘So, out of my own pocket, I'm putting up the money for a scientific survey.' Stones watched both father's and son's faces closely. He preferred what he saw on Tim's so aimed most of his words at him. ‘I'm sure you've seen the kind of thing at Loch Ness. I've had it at the back of my mind for a while, but Monday's events have given me fair justification, I think. And I want it done properly, by professionals.'

Tim looked over at the scientists from the BGS.

Stones sniffed, nodded. ‘They know a few people, who know a few people. And a sonar survey of the lake bed will sure help them out in their research too, no doubt. They've got their own boat.'

Tim was sure he meant the inflatable. He looked at Bill, anxious about his reaction. But all his father did was push himself to his feet, ready to leave.

With an effort Stones was on his feet too. ‘So we'll have definitive, scientific, once-and-for-all
proof
. Proof that there's no such thing as the Mourn.' He smiled happily. ‘And then I can get my boats and customers back out on the water.'

Tim had stood up next to his father, but he wasn't ready to leave just yet. ‘What if the scientists prove it
does
exist? They might find it down there.'

Stones smiled with the cigar between his teeth, his eyes glittering. ‘I don't think either of us really believes they will, now, do we?'

Tim shied away from his look. But Bill stood firm. He asked calmly enough, ‘You've said your piece?'

Stones sucked on his cigar as if thinking about it.

‘Have you said your piece?' Bill repeated.

Stones nodded. ‘For now. Yes.'

Bill reached behind his ear and made a show of putting his hearing aid back in. The fury rose red and patchy on Stones's cheeks. Tim would have laughed if he hadn't been in the middle. Bill put some money down on the table. ‘For the drinks.'

‘You'll have no argument left, Milmullen. Not when the scientists—'

‘Oh, I make a point of not arguing with science,' Bill said. He and Tim were already halfway to the door. ‘I learned a long time ago that it's far too stubborn.'

SOMEONE WAS LEAVING
– there were two suitcases at the bottom of the stairs. Tim didn't see them until he'd almost fallen over them. His first thought was that his father was kicking the scientists out.

In the kitchen Anne and Jenny were clearing up after a busy breakfast and both were surprised to see him. ‘I thought you'd already be around the lake,' Anne said.

‘Why didn't you come down to help us?' Jenny wanted to know.

‘Sorry. I slept in,' he lied. In fact he'd been awake since long before it got light, just lying there, thinking. ‘I was up late planning my reading for tomorrow.' This was the truth, but he didn't add how unsuccessful another night with Old William's diary had been.

He was worried. Vic Stones had set off all kinds of thoughts in his head – like dominoes, each one triggered the next. It was impossible that Stones could have read his mind and known about his doubts and uncertainties, yet he'd managed to put his finger on them anyway. And it might be good news about his hotel being indefinitely delayed, but now Tim was wary of this scientific survey.
Because what if they couldn't find the Mourn? Would everybody have to stop believing?

For the umpteenth time that morning he forced everything to the back of his mind.
The nurse saw it
, he told himself.
And I saw the teeth marks in Marshal's head myself
. If he stuck to those two facts then he was sure he could convince himself to keep believing.

‘Is your uncle up yet?' Anne asked.

‘He went out ages ago.' Uncle Doug getting up was what had woken him. ‘He didn't come home until after midnight then went again about sixish.'

‘Your dad's still looking for him, that's all.'

‘He was definitely around last night. He snores like a herd of buffalo.' He hoped this sounded like a good excuse for why he looked so tired. Having so little sleep this week made him feel like he was constantly trying to carry a soft but particularly heavy weight on his shoulders. He felt emotional and blurred and even filling the kettle for a cup of tea seemed beyond him this morning, as he managed to get more water down his front than anywhere else.

Anne tutted and took control, as mums do. Jenny raised her eyebrows in question, but he shook his head, not wanting to be interrogated in front of their mother. He sat down at the table and yawned like a cave.

‘Looks like you could do with another couple of hours even now,' Anne said.

‘Hmm.' He nodded. Then: ‘Who's leaving? They left their suitcases at the bottom of the stairs. Is it the earthquake people?'

‘Mr Spicer's decided to go home early,' Anne said. ‘He says he doesn't like it around here now there's no peace and quiet, and I can't say I blame him.'

‘He's not even staying for the Carving?'

‘He seems very upset. There's a taxi coming to take him to the bus station.'

‘He's gone a bit weird,' Jenny said. ‘He
has,'
she defended herself against her mother's admonishing look.

‘Maybe so, but we don't gossip about it in loud voices, do we?'

Jenny lowered her voice. ‘He reckons everybody's lying about seeing the Mourn because they all say it looks different to what he saw. He told Dad he's not coming back until people admit he was the last true person to see it.'

Tim looked at his mother, but she was keeping a tactful silence. ‘What about the earthquake people?' he asked. ‘Has Dad kicked them out?'

‘No,' Anne said.

‘Is he going to?'

‘No. I think it's Uncle Doug who wants them out now, but your dad won't have them treated any differently.'

Tim guessed Doug knew about their part in Stones's survey, but didn't understand why Bill had changed his mind. ‘I thought it was Dad who was dead set against them being here in the first place.'

‘He's just saying the opposite to Uncle Doug all the time,' Jenny said. ‘All they do is argue nowadays.'

Anne plonked Tim's cup of tea down on the table a little too hard, slopping some dribbles over the side. ‘Your father
has never asked any of his guests to leave,' she said, then moved through into the guests' dining room. She had always been clever like that, Tim realized. She managed to tell the facts of the matter without giving away her own feelings.

The door hadn't even swung shut behind her before Jenny was leaning across the table.

‘What happened at WetFun last night?' she whispered. ‘Nobody's telling me anything.'

‘Maybe Dad doesn't want anybody knowing.'

She tutted. ‘Just tell me.'

He shrugged. ‘Stones is organizing a hunt for the Mourn.'

‘A
hunt
?'

‘Like they do at Loch Ness – sonar, underwater cameras, all that kind of stuff.'

Jenny wasn't impressed. ‘They won't find it.'

And this was exactly the thought that had been bothering him. ‘What makes you think that?'

‘Because it won't want to be found. It's kept hidden for all this time, it's not going to pop its head up and say “Hi, hello there” to someone like Vic Stones, is it?'

‘Guess not.'

‘Exactly.'

He drank his tea slowly. It was as though the two of them had both asked the same question, just managed to come up with completely different answers.

Anne chivvied him along when she came back through to the kitchen. ‘Come on. Your father will be expecting you to be around the other side of the lake by now. He's been out there for at least an hour already.' And her words
seemed to sum up so much for him – everything from his father's expectations to his own dedication.

He gulped down his tea and headed outside.

Bright sun; biting wind. He made his way across the driveway to the garage to fill his rucksack with feed. He noticed and tried to ignore the fact that there seemed to be even more ‘ghouls and vultures' this morning. Lake Mou moved restlessly, looking agitated, almost as if it was unimpressed with all the attention. The police boats were there, further out towards the southern shore than they'd been before, but he couldn't see his father, and the
Bonnie Claire
was tied up at the feeding pier.

He heard raised voices from inside the garage and immediately recognized Bill and Uncle Doug arguing. Not particularly liking the sneak he seemed to be becoming these days, but too inquisitive not to listen in all the same, he lingered near the window. His first thought was that their argument would be because of the newspaper interview Doug had given, so was wholly unprepared for what he heard.

‘It's not just irresponsible. It's bloody outrageous!'

‘I'm trying to help, Bill. I don't understand why you can't see that.'

‘How on earth did you expect me to react? Did you think I wouldn't know whether or not I'd put that dog's head in the feed sack.
I
was the unlucky bugger who had to cut the bloody thing in half in the first place.'

‘I thought you'd understand what I was doing.'

‘I do, Doug. I do. I understand you were trying to lie and cheat your way onto the bestseller lists by goading the papers with a couple of foolish pranks. I thought we'd stopped doing this kind of thing when we were kids.'

‘No, Bill – no way. I'm not having you claim this is solely to do with my book sales. I'm trying to help the family out here, I—'

Tim was so wrapped up in his eavesdropping, and so taken aback by what he thought he was hearing about Uncle Doug and Marshal, that when someone tapped him on the shoulder he almost leaped out of his skin.

Sarah laughed, half catching him as he staggered backwards. ‘Sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump.' She was wrapped up with gloves and scarf; her cheeks were a fresh, ruddy red from the cold.

Tim's cheeks had coloured as well, but because he was flustered, embarrassed. ‘No, no, that's okay.' He gestured at the garage window and tried to laugh a little with her. ‘You caught me spying and I thought you were my mum.'

‘I don't blame you for not wanting to go inside.' She raised her eyebrows at the muffled but obviously aggressive swearing they could both hear. ‘Is it your dad?'

‘Yeah, and my Uncle Doug. I think he's been . . .' Although he wasn't sure how to put it, wasn't sure if he'd misinterpreted what he'd heard and jumped to conclusions.